The woods opened into a marsh that shimmered. Rowan’s eyes gleamed with excitement. “Come on! Willowfen has to be close.”

Nestled deep in the swamp, Willowfen looked like a secret village the world had hidden away. Wooden cottages rose on stilts above the shallow waters, their dark marshwood mirrored in the still pools below. Rope bridges stretched between them in tangled paths. Rowan stepped onto a patch of moss that looked solid until it gave way beneath him with a wet squish.

“Careful,” Bjorn said, grinning as Rowan flailed. “That stuff’s trickier than it looks.”

“Yeah, thanks for the warning,” Rowan muttered, yanking his foot free with a loud SLLLRRRP. Mud clung to his boot like sticky pudding.

A giggle floated through the cattails. Rowan glanced up to see a cluster of children peeking from a porch. One pointed at his muddy shoe, and the others burst into laughter before vanishing back inside.

Rowan waved, embarrassed but smiling. “I promise we’re friendly!”

At the far end of the village, a woman in a straw hat stomped back and forth across a shaky rope bridge. Hay, mud, and dust splattered her apron, sparkling beneath the lantern light. She muttered to herself, then spotted the boys.

“You there! Outsiders!” she bellowed, waving her arms. “You didn’t happen to see any flutterhorns, did you?”

Bjorn shrugged his shoulders. “Flutter… what?”

The woman groaned so loudly it rattled the cattails. “Flutterhorns! Those glittery nuisances with butterfly wings and goat hooves! Chewed through their ropes this morning and bolted. Six of them, gone! And not a soul in this village is fast enough to catch them!”

Rowan’s eyes lit up. “Wait. Did you say butterfly goats?”

“Don’t be fooled by the wings!” the woman barked, pointing a finger at him like a general on a battlefield. “One tried to eat my broom! Bit the bristles clean off. Haven’t swept a thing since!”

Rowan looked at Bjorn, then shouted. “We can help! But we need food and a place to stay.”

The woman squinted at the pair like she was weighing two damp scarecrows. Finally, she gave a sharp nod. “Catch all six, and you’ll have dinner, dry boots, and a loft bed. Deal?”

Bjorn elbowed Rowan with a smirk. “You got yourself a deal. How hard can it be to round up six glitter-goats?”

Twenty minutes later, a high-pitched bleat shattered the stillness.

“There!” Rowan shouted, pointing at a blur of color streaking across a rope bridge.

The creature zipped through the mist like a flying comet, its wings rose, gold, and emerald. It looked exactly like a scruffy goat rolled in glitter and handed butterfly wings. Long ears flopped as it bounded along, scattering trails of sparkling dust that lingered in the air like enchanted confetti.

Rowan ran on the damp planks as the bridge wobbled beneath him. Water splashed up between the boards, and he nearly skidded off the side before windmilling his arms back into balance.

“I’ll get this one!” he called, cheeks flushed with excitement. He thrust out his hand, summoning a quick burst of wind. The gust whooshed forward, only to whip his cloak straight over his face.

“Mmfph!” Rowan sputtered, tugging the fabric down as he stumbled onward.

Behind him, Bjorn’s booming laugh shook the air. “Very graceful!”

Another flutterhorn ran near the cottages, glitter tumbling from its wings in a sparkling trail. Bjorn crouched and charged. The ground trembled under his heavy strides, and at just the right moment, he launched himself.

POOF!

The flutterhorn vanished in a glittery puff, reappearing a few steps away with a cheeky bleat.

Bjorn yelped, jerking his leg back. “They teleport?!”

From a nearby porch, the woman cupped her hands around her mouth. “Teleport? That one? Nah, she’s just a slippery rascal!”

Rowan jogged up, panting. “They’re faster than they look.”

“And way too glittery,” Bjorn grumbled, brushing sparkles from his tunic. “Feels like I ran through a unicorn sneeze.”

The flutterhorn flicked its ears, gave a smug little bleat, and darted off again, like a mischievous comet.

Bjorn groaned loud enough to stir the cattails. “I miss normal goats.”

Rowan laughed, clutching the flutterhorn they had managed to catch. Its wings fluttered against his arm. “Come on. Only five more!”

They dropped the flutterhorn back into its pen and hurried along the winding village paths. Lanterns swayed over rope bridges, vines curled lazily around rooftops, and shadows flickered between the stilts of the houses. The chase pulled them deeper into Willowfen, where every corner exploded with another burst of laughter, glitter, and goat-shaped chaos.

By mid-afternoon, they finally corralled five flutterhorns. One only came out from under the canoe after they bribed it with a spoonful of honey. Another seemed determined to wage war on Rowan’s knee, headbutting him at every chance until he was limping.

Rowan rubbed his sore leg. “I’m starting to think the last one grew wings and a brain.”

Bjorn crouched by a patch of flattened grass and brushed his hand over the bent blades. “Tracks go this way.” He pointed toward the far edge of the village, where the marsh thinned into towering trees. Beyond, the forest loomed, its trunks rising like pillars, branches whispering in the wind like beckoning hands.

Rowan groaned. “Of course. The creepy forest. Why does it always have to be a creepy forest?”

Bjorn slung his pack over one shoulder and smirked. “What’s wrong? Don’t tell me you’re scared.”

Rowan’s cheeks warmed as he shot him a glare. “I’m not scared. I just don’t want to end up as tree food, thank you very much.”

Bjorn chuckled, walking ahead. “Relax. If the forest eats anyone, it’ll eat me first.”

“That’s not funny,” Rowan muttered, pulling his cloak tight as he hurried after him.

The forest greeted them with creaks and whispers. Branches swayed like curious watchers, and the air grew heavy with the smell of wet earth and moss. Rowan’s stomach tightened at every sound, but he fixed his gaze on Bjorn’s back. If his friend could march straight in, then he wasn’t about to look like a coward.

A twig snapped ahead. Both boys froze. Rowan’s breath caught as the forest seemed to lean closer, listening with them. Then, just past a fern, a faint sparkle of glitter winked once before slipping back into shadow.

Rowan narrowed his eyes. “All right, sparkle goat. Show me what you’ve got.”

They crept after the hoofprints, picking their way carefully over roots and slick stones. The trees thickened, willow-like branches brushing their shoulders like falling ribbons. Moss draped the ground in velvet green, muffling every step. Every rustle, every birdcall set Rowan’s heart racing, a mix of nerves, excitement, and the wonder of stepping deeper into a place that felt alive.

Rowan crouched beside a patch of mud, brushing his fingers over the soft ground. “There. Glitter poop.”

Bjorn leaned in with a squint. “Yep. That’s flutterhorn poop if I’ve ever seen it.”

Rowan raised an eyebrow. “You’ve never seen flutterhorn poop.”

Bjorn grinned from ear to ear. “Still counts.”

Before Rowan could shoot back, a sharp, squeaky bleat echoed through the trees. Both boys froze. Rowan’s eyes lit up. “There it is again!”

He sprang to his feet and bolted toward the sound, weaving between roots and mossy stones. His boots thudded softly on the damp earth as he scanned for any sign of movement. But just as suddenly as he started, Rowan skidded to a halt.

“Hey, Bjorn,” he whispered. “Look at this.”

Between two towering trunks, something shimmered just above the forest floor. It hung in the air like rippling water, bending the light into waves of silver and green. 

Rowan stepped closer, his words barely audible. “I’ve seen something like this before.”

Bjorn crept up beside him, lowering his voice. “Where?”

“The night I found the Windkoro,” he said at last. “There was a ripple just like this… in the crater.”

Bjorn reached out. The strange light curled around his fingers like cool water flowing in an unseen stream, and jerked his hand back.

“The flutterhorn tracks,” Rowan said softly. “They lead right here.”

Bjorn glanced at him, his voice caught between excitement and unease. “Ready?”

Rowan’s chest tightened with anticipation, but he held Bjorn’s gaze and gave a firm nod. “Let’s do it.”